While I walked the snowy streets in the dead of night, I slung the blood from my right arm in slick flicks. The red liquid cascaded down from the momentum of my swings and painted the streets sporadically. I rubbed my hand and arm against things to try and get Charles’ blood off me because the longer it stayed on my arm, the more people would know. The more my friends would know what I’d done.

  I kept walking, lost in my head for about half an hour until I centered myself. I knew what I needed to do. I came out into the city for answers about Alex, and the only person I thought might know more than anyone was just on the other side of the river.

  As I paced toward Abel’s house, I talked to Death, hoping for some kind of direction.

  “Help me… I don’t know what I’m doing. We have a relic… but I don’t know what it will do to her. I don’t want it to affect Alex… but even if it is… what can I do?” I asked the unseen entity I knew was listening. The only question was… would he answer me?

  I kept talking, and I kept listening to the sounds of the cold winds howling around me. There was no response. Before I knew it, I had made my way across the frosty bridge to the other side of the river. The sun started slowly creeping up over the horizon, illuminating the frozen world in ways that were beautiful to see.

  I kept to the lesser-seen areas as I made my way to Abel’s. I stuck to the woods just off the road, listening to cars pass by on the highway that traced the parallel line running south by the river. Before I realized it, I was coming up on the area I recognized. Once my attention shifted to the detailed directions to get to the house, it was only a few more minutes. Soon, I was standing outside the short drive from the small road to the crooked house where Abel rested.

  I could hear his heart beating soundly from within his bed. He was asleep, which was shocking. From my experiences with him in the past, I figured he’d be awake, standing right on his porch watching me walk up. He seemed ominously aware of the goings on of the city’s supernatural side.

  I lingered in his yard, unsure if I should knock or wait. I stood in the snow, waiting as the sun rose higher. I spent a long time out there, feeling a wave of uncertainty wash over me. After Alex’s reaction in her bedroom, after killing Charles… I felt at odds with the world. I remembered Jon’s words. To cling to people in my dark days. That felt hard at that moment.

  After a while, I heard the sound of feet scuffing across the floor, a coffee pot clinking around, being rinsed out, and a new brew being made. I heard him sit at his creaky table, a paper unfurled with old information, and then he stopped.

  I sensed him gazing beyond the house in some unseen way. He could sense me. And I could sense him. We both knew the other was listening… watching… It was expected of me… but for him… it only led to more questions.

  “Come in, Sam.” His old Cajun-flavored voice echoed in the emptiness of his home.

  A few seconds later, his front door groaned as I pried it open. The floor creaked under my weight as I stepped in, closing out the world around me. I felt secure in his house, like the consequences of everything couldn’t reach me once the door closed.

  As I walked into the kitchen, there he was, just like before. Abel sat in his chair, newspaper spread wide and steam rolling off his coffee.

  “Was wondering when you’d stop by,” he muttered, folding the paper in half as he turned to a new section.

  “I’ve got questions,” I said simply.

  Abel nodded, “As do I…”

  We stared at each other, both weighing the other’s words in that strained moment.

  “A trade, maybe,” Abel suggested. “Question for question.”

  I nodded, then said, “What do you know about the elders of the pits?”

  Abel nodded to himself, expecting this. “Much more than you’d think. But I think you should be more specific.”

  I shifted as he spoke, heeding his words, “Do you know about… Hunger?”

  Without missing a beat, Abel said, “Yes… and the relics of its power within the elders.”

  I nodded, preparing to ask my next question. But it was his turn.

  “I take it you went down there? Started killing them on their own ground?”

  “Yeah,” I answered. Then I asked. “What happens when someone new absorbs that power?”

  “Guess it had to go somewhere… but you don’t seem…” he trailed off, lowering his glasses as he looked at me closer.

  “Not me… Alex,” I said, but the moment her name left my mouth, I worried. Should I have told him that?

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  I felt a strange fear for her, like just letting Abel know that she had the shard could be detrimental, like he could be like those abominations down in the pits, scrambling to get to her relic of Hunger.

  “Hmm…” he thought for a moment. “And you’re worried for her?”

  I nodded seriously, trying not to spill any more beans.

  “I wish I had answers for you, Sam. However, I think you’ll find that all of those holding a relic are different in their own right. Some take on more monstrous traits… some do not. Some control greater aspects of power, retaining their minds, while others fall into the depths of monstrosity. Never returning to the surface world again.” Abel talked loosely. “I think you’ll find that Hunger isn’t the only Primeval to split itself in search of survival…” he left that hanging ominously.

  His words told me more than just the facts… if they were true. They also told me that he knew more than anyone else I had come across. He knew not only about the Primevals, but that hunger had split herself, and she might not be the only one. His words made me lean back in my chair, slowing the flow of questions and answers.

  After a minute of quiet, I asked, “You’re more than just Martin's friend… aren’t you. You seem… pretty well informed…”

  “In this city… you gotta be!” Abel took off his glasses and began cleaning the lenses with a white napkin lying beside his coffee. “And yes, I've been here long before Martin.” His words were like the drop of an executioner's axe; stark finality was revealed in his words. He was indeed much more than he had ever let on.

  I had my worries, especially now that I was catching a deeper glimpse into his secrets. I had something I needed to know, not just for my sake, but Alex’s.

  “Are you tied to Hunger?” I asked bluntly.

  Abel shook his head with a smile. “No, I am one hundred percent human.”

  I cocked my head to the side, “How’s that... if you’ve been here longer than Martin?”

  “Let’s just say, for now, I’m a shepherd… leading certain people to certain things. Or away from things,” Abel said with a grin that made me think he’d done this many times before. “But you didn’t come here to learn more about me. You came for Alex… and I believe it’s my question.”

  I closed my mouth at the first sound of the next question I had ready. We eyed each other intently as he could see the gears spinning in my head at his words. He was staring at me, waiting to unleash his next inquiry.

  “Why do I feel death so close to you?” Abel asked with true intrigue.

  I halted before I answered. Was he asking about Death himself, or was he asking about the fact that I had just killed Charles, and he could sense it on me? Could he know? Should I tell him what had happened? Would he tell Martin?

  “How do you mean?” I asked for clarification, and was kind of playing dumb.

  “I feel something on you, boy. Something that shouldn’t be… not in this world. At least… I did. Right now, though, it's gone… but I can still feel the touch of it, like you're still connected to it.

  It was instinctual, but as soon as my brain registered his words, I thought of the blade. I was tied to that thing, but Death had just taken it from me for the time being. It was an endless well of Death’s power, and it had been linked to me when we met the few times before. Even he was noticing that it was missing now.

  I didn’t answer right away, staring at him as I weighed my options. Death was radio silent, so I wasn't too afraid of this line of questioning, but I still wanted to play things close to the vest with this guy. I still didn’t know who Abel truly was.

  “I’m not your enemy, Sam. Think on it… Take some time, and then we’ll meet again. I think we both can learn from each other.” Abel nodded to me, thinking hard about something, almost reliving something behind his eyes. “You remind me of someone… someone I knew a very long time ago…”

  I could tell that whatever he was piecing together was what he was asking his questions for. Maybe he knew one of my kind before… another bearer of Myordrakien’s mantle bound to Death.

  “Alex will be fine… once she’s adjusted. I think you’ll find her an ally you never knew you needed… both above and below,” Abel added before sipping from his hot coffee.

  I felt calm… at peace in that moment. There was a silent understanding between Abel and me. I knew he was more than just human… no matter what he claimed about being some kind of shepherd. He knew there were secret things about me that I was keeping from him. However, I think we both felt something from the other… an air of no ill will, or something. I think we were both on the same side, as much as that was possible. Neither of us was actively working against the other, but guarding things as well.

  I stood, “Then I’ll leave you alone. That’s all I need… for now.”

  “You’ll be heading back down soon, then?”

  I nodded, “Very…”

  “May I make one last suggestion, before you go?” Abel asked with a serious look, placing his glasses back on his weathered face.

  I nodded, signaling him to go ahead.

  “Don’t be so hard on the Wicklow boy. He’s as much a victim as Autumn,” was all Abel said before getting up to refill his cup of coffee.

  “What do you know about that?” I asked with a quick edge in my voice. My words came out more hostile than I meant them to. A sudden fear for Autumn rising in me.

  Abel never stopped filling his mug as he said, “You might want to meet with Carter Chasse before you head back down beneath the city.”

  My eyes were probably bulging out of my head at his words, and I was about to shoot out some more probing questions; however, Abel just nodded and left the room.

  “It was good talking to you, Sam. I think I’ll find you the next time,” and then he walked down a rickety hall. He entered a room and then closed the door behind him.

  Even if he wanted this conversation to be over, I didn’t. I stormed down the hallway after him, framing myself right in front of the door. I gripped the small doorknob and almost ripped the door from its hinges as I tore my way into the room. I was going to make him tell me what he knew.

  However, the moment the room was revealed to me, it was empty. I stared at a dresser with three missing drawers, a bedframe with no mattress, and a window just barely cracked to squeak in the winter breeze. Abel was not inside this small bedroom in the middle of this short hallway. I sent out a harsh rip of my pulse sense. It vibrated back and forth between me and every inch of the ramshackle home… but nothing. There wasn't a single living thing inside this forgotten home. Abel was gone… like he had never been there in the first place.

  I felt my pulse vibrate through my throat as I glanced around quickly, confused at what had happened. I paced back to the kitchen in a hurry, glancing around like it was a dream or something. I saw the coffee pot still half full. I reached over and touched my fingers to the pot. It was hot; the machine was still actively heating with its burner. The mug was still on the counter… still steaming upwards from the brown liquid.

  He had been here… Abel was real, and this had happened… but now he was gone. The same question raged inside of me. Who the fuck was Abel?